


Time to Stop Dancing

by GinnyK



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s04e19 Angel Maintenance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-05-31 03:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15110912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyK/pseuds/GinnyK
Summary: Post-ep toAngel Maintenance





	Time to Stop Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Also dead, Diane Moss. 

Is that really how Donna sees herself? As a footnote to my life? She's not a footnote, she IS my life. And I'm sure I don't tell her that enough. She has no idea what she means to me, how lost I would be without her. But I have no idea how to tell her that. Do I just stick my head out of my office and bellow? Take her out to a nice dinner; tell her over coffee in the Mess? I have no idea. 

"Josh?" 

"Huh?" 

"Are you ok? You're sitting here in the dark." 

"I'm fine. What's up?" 

"The motorcade should be here soon. You have about ten minutes to get out of here or you'll be subjected to a lecture on landing gear and crosswinds." 

"Then let's go," I say with a grin as I pull my feet off the desk and reach for my backpack. 

Eight minutes later, with the sound of the motorcade coming down Pennsylvania Avenue we head out the door. We both walked this morning. Donna because her car broke down again and me because I wanted a little exercise. I had an appointment with the cardiologist last week. Got the exercise lecture again. 

"So Josh, exactly where are we going?" Donna asks as she adjusts her tote bag over her shoulder. 

"Hawk & Dove? I think I owe you." 

"Well Josh, you do owe me, for many, many things. But what in particular are you paying for tonight." 

"Christmas. I was supposed to take you out that night. But you left with to be with Commander Wonderful." 

"OK, sounds good to me." she says ignoring my reference. "But beware, I didn't eat dinner and I'm starving." 

Good thing I went to the ATM this morning. 

We walk in silence to the Metro station and hop on the train at Federal Triangle. It's pretty empty this time of night. I realize I'm pretty hungry too. I don't remember eating dinner either. 

We get off at Capitol South and walk to the bar. It’s still pretty busy but we find a table in the corner. We order beer and food. I'm suddenly a little nervous and I don't know why. Of course Donna notices right away. 

"Josh, what's wrong?" she asks as the waitress puts a pitcher of beer and two mugs on the table. She fills the mugs and pushes one towards me. 

"I was just thinking about that thing you said before." 

"What thing was that? I've said a lot of things," she says with a smirk. 

"Before, about being an "also dead". Do you really think you'll die next to me?" 

She laughs a little, her blue eyes shining in the dim light. "I don't know. It was something I just said. Something that slipped out. I was feeling useless and my mind was wandering I guess. Air Force One was having trouble and I got to thinking about things." 

"What kind of things?" 

"About how I want to do more. About legacies and what I'd leave behind when I die. And I just don't think that I'd be leaving all that much behind," she says sadly. I don't know where this is all coming from. Donna's usually not the brooding type, that's me. 

"Donna, what's really wrong?" I ask as I reach across the table and take her hand. 

She shrugs her shoulders and I honestly believe she doesn't know what's wrong. Before I can try and get her to talk the waitress arrives with out food. I reluctantly let go of her hand. We eat in silence for a few minutes. She finishes about half of her salad before she starts picking at my fries. 

"I feel like I'm stuck," she admits after finishing her second beer. 

"Stuck how?" I ask, not sure of where she's going with this but pretty sure I'm not going to like it. 

"At work. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my job. But I didn't envision myself still being an assistant at this point in my life. Maybe I should have though. It's not like a have a degree or anything." 

I swallow hard and move my plate aside enough to take her hand again. "You're not just an assistant, you know that. And you do deserve more. You deserve a promotion but...." My voice trails off as I think how my life would be if Donna wasn't sitting outside my office door everyday. 

"I don't know that," she says as she pulls her hand away and places both of them in her lap. 

"Know what?" I ask, more confused than I should be after only one and a half beers. 

"That I'm more than an assistant." 

"Donna, I tell you that all the time." 

"Yeah, you do. But you don't show it." 

"What do you mean. I do show it. I give you more responsibilities. I had you meet with Ivan Perez." 

Whoops, that wasn't the most intelligent thing to say. 

"Exactly, you sent me to meet with a Communist," she says, no longer making an effort to hide the bitterness in her voice. 

"I didn't know. I didn't do it on purpose." My voice is nearing the whining stage and I'm not proud of that. "I'm trying to do what I can." 

"Josh, it doesn't seem that way. It seems like....like" 

"Like what?" 

"Like you're content with the way things are. I'm your assistant and I spend my days saving your ass and generally making your life easier." 

"But that's your job." Oh God, I am going to have to have my foot surgically removed from my mouth by the time we get out of here. 

"Yes it is," she spits out as she pours herself another beer. "And I give you 100 percent every day. And what do I get in return?" 

"You get all I can give." 

"Do I? Do I really get all you can give?" she asks. 

And then it hits me. I don't think we're only talking about our working relationship. And I don't know how to react. But I do know that the middle of a popular DC pub is not the place to have this conversation. I drain my mug and toss some money on the table. "Are you coming?" I ask honestly not too sure she will follow me. 

"Yes master," she snorts as she picks up her tote bag. 

As we walk out the door my hand is on her back, as always. I can feel her stiffen at my touch as I ask myself--- 

What the hell just happened? 

A little over an hour ago I was trying to think of ways to tell Donna how much she means to me. Now I'm afraid to even open my mouth. 

We walk around aimlessly for a few minutes, wandering past the Capitol and out towards the Mall. Donna's been silent, eerily so. I am genuinely afraid. 

"Donna.." I started, having no idea what I am going to say. She cuts me off with a glare. I back off, literally and figuratively. We walk another few minutes before Donna decides to take a seat on a bench. I think waiting for her to speak is probably the best idea. 

"Josh, just let me talk, ok?" I nod. "Can we just forget what happened in the bar? I mean, not all of it, just from the point where, from the point where you realized what I was talking about." 

Now I could just act dumb, like I had no idea what she was really talking about. But I don't think that would be the smartest thing to do. "I don't want to forget about it. We should talk about it." 

"Josh, what good would that do? We've been dancing around this...this thing for years now. I think it's time to stop dancing." 

For a rare moment in my life I am speechless. And as is a frequent occurrence in my life I am totally confused. What does she mean by---time to stop dancing. It could go either way. And after the way I've been eating shoe leather over the past hour and a half I am keeping my mouth shut and my hands to myself. 

The expression on Donna's face tells me nothing; she's a little teary eyed but that could go either way too. She kisses my cheek and takes my hand, pulling me to my feet. Continuing on our walk back towards the Washington Monument, we're silent. She's still holding my hand and as we cut across the width of the Mall I steal a glance in her direction. Her expression is a little hard to read. I don't think I've ever seen her look so uncertain. Except for maybe the night we spent sitting by the fountain waiting for Cliff to read her diary. The fact that she's still holding my hand tightly in hers gives me a little hope. 

THE END 


End file.
